Two weeks had passed. For Nihil, each day at Dawnlight Academy was a lesson in routine and self-restraint. His life was now governed by bells: bells for waking, bells for starting work, bells for als, bells for sleep. He had beco part of the invisible machine that kept this grand institution running.
The kitchen was his world. The heat from the ovens, the sizzle of oil in pans, the clink of knives on cutting boards, and the constant grumbling of Head Chef Heston. He worked tirelessly. His pale, slender hands, now slightly rough with a few scratches and small burn marks, moved without pause. He spoke only when spoken to and never raised his head unless necessary. He was a ghost among the servants, a figure so quiet that people began to forget him.
And that was perfect.
Within this silence, he recovered his strength. Every night, he would ditate atop the pile of sacks in the dark storage room, feeling his Capacity energy slowly return. The Null-Capacity Condenser in his pocket, though slightly damaged, helped stabilize his turbulent Void Sync.
[Capacity: 25 / 25]
[Void Sync: 6.2% (Stable)]
He was fully recovered. But he didn’t use his power. Using it here, in the heart of the Imperium saturated with Blessing energy, would be like lighting a torch in the dark of night. So, he waited and observed.
He learned. He morized the faces of the professors, the nas of the noble students he often served, and most importantly, he mapped every corner of the academy he could access. Knowledge was a weapon, and currently, it was the only one he could safely wield.
His only human connection was with Celia, a healer from the common folk. The girl often ca to the kitchen to collect herbal ingredients. Unlike other students who regarded the kitchen staff as re furniture, Celia always smiled and said thank you.
One afternoon, a young kitchen worker slipped and his hand was scalded by boiling water. He scread in agony. Before Celia, who happened to be there, could chant a healing spell, Nihil had already moved.
"Don’t rinse it with cold water," he said quickly, his calm voice cutting through the panic. He took a clean cloth and gently dried the area around the burn without touching it. "Leave it exposed to the air. Don’t cover it. That will prevent infection and speed up the natural cooling of the tissue."
Everyone stared at him. Head Chef Heston regarded him suspiciously. Celia looked at him in amazent. The dical knowledge, though basic, was accurate and delivered with the confidence of an expert.
"You... are right," Celia said softly, lowering her hands that had been ready to chant a spell. "That’s the perfect non-magical procedure." She looked at Nihil, truly seeing him for the first ti. "Who are you really?"
Nihil simply shook his head and returned to work, leaving Celia with more questions than answers.
That night, Celia found him as he took a brief rest in the backyard, gazing at the towering library spire in the distance.
"I know you’re not just a lost village boy," Celia said softly, standing a few steps away from him.
Nihil remained silent, his eyes fixed on the spire.
"I won’t ask about your past," Celia continued. "But I see how you look at that tower every night. You’re thirsty for knowledge, aren’t you? Soone like you... shouldn’t be spending the rest of your life in a kitchen."
Nihil finally turned to face her, his crimson eyes dim in the moonlight. "Choice is a luxury for so, Celia."
"If so, then create your own choice," she replied with determination. "There’s an ’Open Entrance Exam’ tomorrow. The only chance for people like you or , who have no grand nas or sponsors, to prove our worth. If you pass, you can beco a student. You can legally enter that library."
Heze’s mind imdiately processed the information. A door. A very small opportunity, but there. "The exam... must require magical ability," he said, testing the waters.
Celia smiled sadly. "Yes. That’s the hardest part. They’ll asure your mana reserves, test your theories, and if you pass, there’s a practical duel. Almost no one succeeds. But..." She looked at Nihil with a strange certainty. "...you’re different. I can feel it. You have to try."
Silence fell between them for a mont. "Thank you," Nihil said sincerely. That was all.
The next morning, Nihil approached Head Chef Heston. "Chef," he said respectfully. "I request a day off."
Heston snorted. "For what? Planning to run away like yesterday’s boy?"
"I wish to take the Open Entrance Exam," Nihil replied.
The entire kitchen fell silent. Then, a few workers burst into laughter. Heston regarded Nihil for a long mont, then laughed, a harsh, raucous sound. "You? Taking an exam for mages and knights?" He laughed again. "Go ahead. I want to see the look on your face when you co back here tonight to scrub the cauldrons. At least it’ll entertain ."
"If I don’t return," Nihil said. "Consider it my thanks for your shelter."
He left his dirty apron on the table. He walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind the world of heat and hard work. Dressed in clean servant’s clothes—the only other set he owned—he crossed the magnificent academy grounds, heading for the main assessnt hall.
He no longer walked with his head down like a servant. He walked upright, his steps steady. He might not have mana, but he had sothing else. Sothing the entire academy was about to discover.
The Grand Assessnt Hall was designed to intimidate. Its ceilings were high, the floors polished marble, and the walls hung with banners of the most prestigious noble families. Hundreds of candidates—mostly commoners with faces full of hope and anxiety—stood in neat rows. On the upper balconies, noble students watched with haughtiness, treating the event as free entertainnt. Among them, Darius val-Luminar looked bored, while Princess Seraphina val-Argent observed with the interest of an analyst.
At the front sat three examiners. In the center, Professor Theron, head of the Departnt of Holy Magic, his face sour as if he had just swallowed a lemon. To his left, Instructor Zander, the master of swords, his muscular arms folded across his chest, his sharp eyes scanning each candidate. To his right, an elderly female mage from the theory departnt.
"We begin!" Professor Theron’s voice bood. "Part One: Mana Resonance Detection!"
One by one, candidates stepped forward and placed their hands on a large crystal ball. Most produced only a faint light, earning a contemptuous snort from Theron. A few generated sufficiently bright light, bringing them relieved smiles.
Then it was Nihil’s turn.
He walked forward calmly. As he approached, whispers broke out on the balconies. "Look at that, isn’t that one of the kitchen servants?" sneered Orion Vex. Darius rely offered a thin smile.
Nihil placed his hand on the cold crystal ball.
Nothing.
Not even a flicker. The crystal remained dark and lifeless, as if he had just touched it with a piece of stone.
Silence. Then laughter erupted from the balconies.
Professor Theron made no effort to hide his disgust. "Zero. No mana resonance whatsoever," he declared loudly. "The most untalented candidate I have ever seen. Next!"
Nihil withdrew his hand without changing expression and returned to the line. This failure had been anticipated.
Part Two was the written theory exam. Candidates were given an hour to answer extrely difficult questions about magical laws, elental interactions, and arcana history. For most, it was a nightmare. For Heze, it was a playground.
He did not answer like a mage. He answered like a scientist. Using logic, calculus, and physical principles from his world to solve the problems, then "translating" his answers into the terminology of this world’s magic.
When ti was up and the papers were collected, silence once again fell over the hall. This ti, it was a silence filled with confusion. One of the examiner’s assistants rushed to Professor Theron with a pale face, handing him a single answer sheet.
Theron read it, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Impossible..." he muttered. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "For candidate number seventy-three... the theory exam..." He paused. "...a perfect score. With a solution to the Seventh Arcane Paradox that has never been seen before."
The entire hall fell silent. All eyes turned to Nihil. Darius val-Luminar’s smile faded. Princess Seraphina leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. How could soone without a drop of mana be an absolute genius in theory?
"There’s no way he cheated!" Orion shouted from the balcony.
"Enough!" barked Instructor Zander, his raspy voice silencing everyone. His eyes locked onto Nihil. "Theory ans nothing without practice. Part Three. Duel."
Due to the bizarre results, Theron personally arranged Nihil’s match. His opponent: Orion Vex. A clear way to embarrass and eliminate this anomaly.
Orion strode into the dueling arena arrogantly, a practice sword in hand. "I’ll make this quick, mana-less trash," he sneered.
Nihil stepped into the arena, rely picking up a practice dagger from the rack.
"Begin!" roared Zander.
Orion imdiately charged, his sword glowing with low-level enhancent magic—a typical showy move. He swung his sword in a wide arc designed to intimidate.
Nihil did not back down. Instead, he stepped forward, entering his opponent’s attack range. His movents were minimal, efficient, and deadly. This was the fighting style he had learned at The Crucible and honed by the instinct to survive.
As Orion’s sword was about to strike him, Nihil did not parry. He slightly shifted his body, allowing the sword to pass just a few centiters away. At the sa ti, he used Orion’s montum to grip his opponent’s arm. With a quick motion, he struck the nerve point on Orion’s wrist with the hilt of his dagger.
CLANG!
Orion’s sword fell to the floor. Before Orion could react to the sharp pain, Nihil’s foot swept out from under him. Orion crashed onto his back. In an instant, the cold tip of Nihil’s practice dagger was at his throat.
The battle had lasted less than five seconds.
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. Everyone, from candidates to nobles, stared agape.
Then, a voice broke the silence. Slow, respectful applause. It was Instructor Zander. A broad smile spread across his scarred face.
Nihil stood straight, withdrew his dagger, and stared directly at the examiners. He had given them a paradox. A candidate with three scores: Zero. Genius. And Monster.
Professor Theron stared at him, a mix of anger, confusion, and sothing akin to fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He glanced at the academy’s headmistress, Headmistress Alina Sunstone, who had been observing from her private balcony.
The headmistress simply offered a faint smile.
"What," Theron whispered to the other examiners, his voice trembling with disbelief. "What are we supposed to do with... this?"
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